


One Day at a Time

by A_bit_not_good_yeah



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Life in the time of Covid-19, M/M, Sexual Content, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_bit_not_good_yeah/pseuds/A_bit_not_good_yeah
Summary: Richard shelters in place at Jared's condo. These are glimpses into their days in quarantine.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 27
Kudos: 76





	One Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal thanks as always to the incomparable joycecarolnotes for all the guidance and encouragement. 
> 
> CW: This fic does deal with all the general uncertainties and fears of quarantine life during this global pandemic, including brief mentions of death, disease, anxiety, insomnia, trauma responses - they're not the main theme or feature, but they do appear. Readers who are sensitive to these matters should proceed with caution.

**Day 2**

“What do you think, Starry Night? Or ooh, what about this one, it’s tesselations of cats!” Jared holds up two puzzles excitedly, prompting Richard to choose. 

“Ah, don’t you think it’s a little early? I mean,” he scrunches his face in a look Jared has come to think of as ‘confused refusal,’ “we don’t want to blow all our um, entertainment resources so, so soon. Right? Maybe we can just. Save those.” 

“Oh. Well...if you’re sure,” Jared replies, leaving room for Richard to change his mind, but Richard goes to the couch and flips on the TV instead. Jared surreptitiously crosses “puzzle time” off the color-coded Gantt chart of Day 2 that he has in his binder. 

From behind him, Jared hears the familiar _dun dunn_ of Netflix starting up, then Richard’s voice. “Hey, have you heard of this documentary series _Tiger King_?” 

**Day 15**

“So like - no chicken or pork or, or _anything_?” Richard asks, voice edging towards a whine. 

“I’m afraid not,” Jared says, stirring the fragrant mix of vegetables in their miso-soy glaze on the stovetop. “I’d be happy to make you something else, Richard, but I think if you just tried--”

“No, no - I mean, yes, it’s fine don’t uh make - make anything special for me. I’ll just.” He picks at the aiglet of his hoodie, the edge fraying under his ragged nail, and sighs. “Millions of vegans can’t be wrong, right?” His lips are pressed into a thin white line. Fucking tofu, of all things. 

When he nearly licks his plate clean by the end of the meal and tells Jared again how shockingly good it was, Jared smiles so hard his face aches. 

**Day 60**

They’re lying in bed, Jared with one arm looped behind Richard’s neck and Richard’s hand holding Jared’s much larger one up near his face and caressing it idly, tracing paths down and up those long, slender, _talented_ fingers. 

“They’re going to start opening things up soon. Should we - I mean, do you want, ah. Like, we should keep, keep sheltering in place, right? Obviously. I mean, duh, the virus isn’t going anywhere, there’s no fucking _plan_. Such a goddman shitshow, like all these alt right Costco moms just, ‘Oh I guess if we just ignore this it will go away! It’s my constitutional right to buy hot dogs and, and toilet paper and who gives a shit if I kill these minimum wage workers to do it!’” He’s ramped up now, squeezing Jared’s hand almost painfully tight, and Jared turns his head to kiss Richard’s temple in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. 

“I know, darling, I know. I think continuing to stay locked down is a good idea. I have plenty in savings to stay afloat and I...” Jared takes a deep breath, his heart thudding in his thin chest, “well, I had hoped you would want to stay. To see it through, together.” 

Richard turns his head sharply, his nose bumping Jared’s. “But this could go on for...I mean, forever. You want me to stay?”

Jared nods. “Yes,” he murmurs, swallowing with a dry click. “Very...very much, Richard.” 

Richard’s face is unreadable for a moment, and then he surges forward and kisses Jared, his sharp teeth digging into Jared’s lower lip with sweet, vicious ferocity. 

**Day 4**

“It’s obvious! Why would she make that weird comment about sardine oil if she didn’t know exactly how to attract tigers into attacking someone?”

“Well,” Jared muses, considering. “Acid _is_ certainly the surest way to eliminate human remains.”

**Day 37**

_It’s a good thing I bought that roll-up puzzle mat from Enid’s estate sale_ , Jared thinks when he finds the thick roll of green felt at the back of his coat closet. _Now’s your time to shine, my fuzzy friend!_

Richard is already at the table examining the box closely. “I’m not sure I should be spending this much time staring at the work of a tortured, penniless failure,” he says and Jared tsks at him as he places the puzzle mat down and opens the puzzle box. “Van Gogh was tortured, yes, but he’s also an incredible inspiration, don’t you think?”

“Well, the guy was talented, sure, but...an inspiration? Come on.”

Jared places a hand on his chest in a way Richard recognizes as his ‘too empathetic for words’ gesture and a wistful look passes over his face. “I think he’s admirable. His genius came from hard work, extraordinary passion, and triumph over the voices that persecuted him. In periods of deep loneliness and uncertainty, he created such beautiful things. I think we could learn something from him now, during such times as these!”

“I’m not sure how you find the silver lining in everything Jared, but ok. Let’s be more like Van Gogh. You wanna start looking for edge pieces?”

**Day 55**

“Oh god,” Richard pants, his forearm braced against the arm of the couch where he’s kneeling as he pushes back onto Jared’s slick, seeking tongue. “Oh god, oh fuck, _Jared_ , how are you - nngg,” he moans, and flushes to the tips of his ears at how desperate, how unlike himself he sounds. He’s naked from the waist down, sweating through his t-shirt and hoodie, but the obscene, lush slurping sounds Jared is making has him shivering all the same. 

“Jared,” Richard gasps, “Jared, Jared,” helplessly clenching down around the hot press of smooth muscle opening him up further, further. His hole must be pink and flushed by now; he feels filthily overripe, like a peach about to burst its skin. “Oh fuck I think I - I think ‘m gonna, gonna come again, oh fuck _me_ I’ve never...not twice in a row, I...”

Jared pulls off at that, blowing cool air across Richard’s wet, gripping hole and reveling in the way it pulses and contracts. At Richard’s soft keen, Jared says, encouraging and a little breathless, “Oh Richard, I know you can achieve _anything_ you set your mind to,” before he dives back in.

**Day 20**

“It’s delicious!” Jared exclaims again, slurping another mouthful of noodles.

“It’s just gluten-free spaghetti. I mean, all the regular pasta was sold out anyway so. It’s really uh, no big deal.” 

Jared puts his fork down. “Yes, but you cooked this beautiful meal for us while I was delivering masks, and I appreciate it so much...” Tears start to glisten in his eyes, and Richard quickly reaches a hand out to touch Jared’s arm, then second-guesses, then ends up brushing his fingertips against the sleeve of Jared’s button-up for one regretful second. “It’s, ah, don’t - hey, it’s ok. Jared? I just wanted to y’know, thank you for um, letting me stay here, and. Oh god,” Richard says as Jared loudly honks into a handkerchief, “and, and tomorrow you can make dinner again, and it will be fine, ok? I got some eggplants, you had said you wanted to make eggplant parm so...”

At this, Jared can’t help but sniffle harder. Richard remembered him mentioning that delectable Ina Garten recipe? With a watery smile, he picks up his fork again and twirls more pasta. Richard watches him, wary, but the tips of his ears are a little pink and he returns Jared’s smile with a soft one of his own.

**Day 6**

Richard rubs the heels of his hands in his eyes. “If I stare at that piece of code any longer, I think my eyes are going to fall out. Wanna watch something?”

Jared is at his craft table sewing what seems like his fiftieth mask to donate. He flexes his aching fingers and they pop. “Yes, I suppose I could do with a break. Maybe something calmer than _Tiger King_ though?”

Richard flips lazily through Netflix so fast, Jared doesn’t know how he can possibly absorb the titles, until he exhales through his nose noisily and turns to where Jared is joining him on the couch. “Bake Off?”

“Ooh yes! Can we do Nadiya’s season?”

“Pfft, duh.”

**Day 22**

“He’s a crook! Look at this,” Richard shoves a notebook full of equations at Jared, stabbing his finger on the page repeatedly. “I sold a Nintendo Switch in the game to Tom Nook yesterday for 7,495 bells, ok? And then today, it’s in his shop where he’s reselling it for 29,980 bells! That’s a _300% markup_ , Jared! He’s a fucking - fucking _profiteer_! People need to know about this.”

“It certainly seems like a high price,” Jared says, distracted. He’s been hunting bugs for the last 30 minutes with no real luck. “But it seems the market will bear it, Richard. I don’t think Animal Crossing has a Federal Trade Commission, but I could do some research if you like!” Jared is trying to avoid another reddit intervention after Richard was up all night trading produce in the online marketplace the night before. “Oh look! A peacock butterfly! Oh, it’s beautiful,” Jared coos as he catches the butterfly in his little net. 

Richard doesn’t seem to be as excited at this new specimen as Jared is, as he continues tapping on his phone and muttering darkly about “that shifty-eyed fucking trash panda.”

**Day 50**

“You don’t - Richard, you mustn't feel that you need to, to _prove_ anything to me,” Jared begins, but his teeth click shut as Richard kneels between his thighs, those quick, clever fingers tugging at Jared’s khakis and underwear to pull them down over his hips and sliding them down his long, long legs. 

“That’s not. I wanna - I wanna,” Richard says, his fingertips digging in hungrily to the skin of Jared’s knees, pulling them further apart, nuzzling in close to where Jared’s dick is lying flushed and hard against his inner thigh. “So good, god you look _so good_ , Jared. Fuck. I’ve never - I wanted to, I just.” Jared squirms as Richard’s hot breath gusts over him and then carefully, so gently Jared could cry, Richard’s mouth is on him. 

It’s hot, so hot and _wet_ around the head of his dick as Richard pushes in closer, working his tongue around Jared. _Oh gosh. Oh gosh in heaven,_ he thinks wildly, letting out a low, pained sound. 

Richard pulls off, looking up at him through his eyelashes framing those darting, brilliant blue eyes. “Jared? Is this, am I - do you like it?” His voice gets a little rougher, a little more panicked. “You have to tell me if you like it.” 

Jared nods, feebly, hardly trusting himself to speak. His heart squeezes at Richard’s relieved smile which turns sharper, more predatory, and he watches, trembling, as Richard’s hand comes up and squeezes around his length, now slick with spit. “You - you want this, huh.” It’s not a question, and it makes Jared woozy to have all of Richard’s confident, unrelenting focus on him. “You _need_ this. Need _me_. To, to give it to you. Is that right?”

Jared nods again, harder this time, _aching_ as Richard squeezes and strokes him slowly. “Right. Cool. _Fuck_ ,” Richard nods too, a little dazed, and then kneels up higher to capture Jared’s mouth in a kiss that’s bruising and messy, still stroking his dick in slow, leisurely pulls. When he breaks the kiss, Richard gasps against Jared’s mouth, “God, you’re so fucking - so fucking good, Jared, I wanna like _eat you_ ,” and Jared’s blood surges at the idea. “Yes,” he gasps, “yes, Richard, anything.”

And Richard ducks his head again, takes Jared into his mouth again, sucks and swallows him down hungrily while Jared makes keening little sounds like a wounded animal. 

All because Jared proposed that their Saturday morning activity this week could be learning a new skill.

**Day 18**

Staying at Jared’s condo means that Richard adheres to a much more structured schedule than he used to at the hacker hostel by virtue of living with someone who owned things like an iron, a mop, and live plants. But insomnia still strikes and Richard stays up all night anyway, reading articles online, tinkering with coding side projects, scrolling through Twitter angrily. He’s bored of the internet by around 6 am, and pads out into the living room in his pajamas to get coffee and maybe shower. Opening the bedroom door quietly, he looks and, yep - Jared is still asleep on the pullout. 

When he wasn’t speaking German, Jared actually looked kind of cute in his sleep. So much smaller, unguarded. Relaxed. His hair looks softer without the pomade in it to keep it neat and tidy, and Richard wonders, not for the first time, what it would feel like under his fingers. Then he winces at how creepy that sounds. Anway, it was nice, being here, seeing glimpses of a Jared who doesn’t have to be so put together all the time. 

Richard puts water in the coffeepot and starts it. After getting his own mug down from the cabinet, he grabs Jared’s favorite mug too and selects a tea bag for him from the canister on the counter. 

**Day 26**

Richard’s been in the shower for much longer than his standard 10 minutes. It’s not a question of the water bill, as Jared always signed up for the fixed payment plan to allow for more reliable budgeting. But what if he had slipped and fallen? What if he was gasping for air, or worse, _unconscious_? Jared finally gets up from the couch, where he had been stewing anxiously for the past few minutes as he watched the seconds tick agonizingly by, and presses his ear to the bathroom door.

He hears the steady rush of water and, below that, just as he feared, a low, breathy, gasping sort of sound. His hand reaches for the knob instinctually and he’s a moment away from calling out, “Richard?” when the sound shifts; it gets faster, louder, a great gulping whoop of air, and then a strangled “NNNnng” that makes Jared’s face go instantly scarlet once he realizes what Richard is doing. 

He jumps back from the door, the back of his neck prickling, and a wave of heat rolling through him and settling low in his groin. This is the lowest invasion, the most sinful breach of privacy! And now he has to live with the heavy weight of knowing how Richard sounds at the moment of climax - how he would look, open-mouthed and panting, water running in rivulets down his face, his hand working over his sweet, turgid length - 

_No more!_ Jared scolds, struggling to regain his composure. He sits back on the couch, willing his thundering heart to quiet down, and gets back to his crochet. He’s working with thicker gauge needles than usual to craft a new throw to send to his friend Margaret; her hearing aids don’t work well enough for them to video chat and her facility has been on complete lockdown, no visitors allowed. Concentrating on the thick yarn helps center him once more, and by the time Richard emerges from the bathroom in a puff of steam, damp and sweet-smelling in his clinging white t-shirt and boxers, Jared has schooled his features into what he hopes is a neutral expression. 

“How was your shower?” Jared asks, not taking his eyes off the yarn slipping through his fingers and looping over the needles. If he had, he would have seen the flush spreading over Richard’s cheeks as he watches Jared’s fingers move nimbly, over, under, gripping the crochet needles tight. 

“Good, yeah,” Richard squeaks. 

**Day 19**

“Have you been having weird dreams lately?” Richard asks through a mouthful of cereal. “I feel like the pandemic is giving me weird dreams.”

“Hmm,” Jared considers. “Well, last night I dreamed I was at one of my old high schools, but it was actually a haunted house, and you and Gilfoyle and Dinesh and my favorite Women’s Studies professor were trying to pack for a flight to somewhere...Italy, I think? And I was trying to find masks for all of us, but these small fish kept biting my toes and distracting me. So, no, nothing out of the ordinary, I’m afraid!”

**Day 3**

“Richard! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I mean, it’s soft, so. Not like I’ll get a concussion. But um. Do you think we need this much?”

“Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it, I think. You know I have to be very careful, my doctor has prescribed that I use at _least_ a good hypoallergenic triple-ply, and who knows if the supply chains will hold if this lasts beyond the scheduled two weeks!”

“Ok,” Richard says, stacking the towering packages of toilet paper back into the linen closet, “ok, it’s, yeah, good idea, Jared.”

**Day 36**

“What’s this?” Jared asks, staring at the object sitting next to his favorite mug with its tea bag waiting inside. 

Richard preens, leaning forward on the balls of his feet. “Saturday morning activity!”

“A pine cone?”

“And this!” Richard reaches from behind his back to present a jar of peanut butter with a flourish. “For birds! You know, bird feeders. We made them in 4H when I was a kid. I thought it might attract some new ones. Birds. Cause you know, you see the same ones out the window every day.” 

“Oh,” Jared says, nearly overcome at such a thoughtful gesture. 

“Do you like it? I can’t tell. Fuck, tell me you like it, I really thought I nailed this!”

“It’s perfect,” Jared assures him.

“Ok. Ok, good. It took fucking forever to find that pine cone.”

**Day 59**

“It’s too far away. I’ll die.”

“Goodness, Richard,” Jared laughs, “that’s terribly dramatic. It’s only for a minute.”

“A minute’s too long,” Richard whines, pressing his nose into the junction where the sharp edge of Jared’s shoulder melts into the curve of his neck. He smells ripe, unwashed. Delicious. Richard lets his teeth nip there ungently; Jared makes a throaty sound. It’s all the opening Richard needs.

“This is better, isn’t it?” he asks, his mouth hot and open, smearing kisses against Jared’s soft throat. Jared hums, not exactly in agreement, and then Richard rolls them, pressing Jared down into the mattress and letting his hand wander down the curved planes of Jared’s body, over all that naked skin: his soft belly, the sharp knob of his hipbone, all the way to the spent curve of his dick, now stirring in renewed interest. The way Richard kisses him is humid and lush; they’ve been in bed for hours, sticky with sweat and semen, and somehow Richard is still grasping, wanting, demanding. It makes Jared swoon.

“Oh,” Jared gulps. “Again? Oh, I really...” but the rest of the sentence is swallowed in a kiss, and Jared feels the familiar sweet, ravenous ache inside him at wanting this, wanting _Richard_ so completely he can barely think of anything else. 

“Fuck I love how hard you get for me,” Richard praises, earning him a buck of Jared’s hips where he’s palming at his rapidly growing dick. “Never gonna let you go, Jared, you’re so - you’re so - “ he can’t seem to finish the thought as he grinds against Jared’s thigh and lets his fingers drift lower, parting Jared’s legs and seeking that most tender, secret spot.

“Richard - we really should - you’ll have to eat something eventually,” Jared tries, and fails, to sound convincing, and he thrills at the wicked gleam in Richard’s eye.

“Turn over, baby. Lemme show you what I want to eat.”

**Day 40**

“What sounds good for dinner?”

“Ugh. Fuck. Nothing. I think I’m tired of chewing.”

...

“Bangkok Bay?”

“Ooh, yeah. Make sure they don’t forget the gyoza sauce this time.”

**Day 25**

Richard wakes up with a start, wiping the drool from his face. He’s slumped on the couch, leaning with his face against Jared’s arm and there’s a pool of spit sticking Jared’s t-shirt to his shoulder. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, man. Gross. God, the guys would give us such shit for this, can you imagine?” 

Jared looks at him with a smile, that soft one that turns down at the corners and always, always makes Richard’s stomach flip. “It’s quite alright! I was just reading an article the other day about how the consistent, low-level anxiety of quarantine is causing many people to sleep more than usual as a trauma response.” Richard purses his lips, not sure what to say, but Jared continues, “You did miss some stirring sections about Woody Guthrie and the Maddox Brothers and Rose - do you want me to go back?”

Richard yawns, considers. Slumps back down again. “No, that’s ok. Just. I’ll just listen.” He closes his eyes again, and in minutes his soft snores are mingling with the voice of Peter Coyote as the documentary continues. 

**Day 8**

Jared frowns. “I don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.”

“I bet it still tastes good, though!” Richard says, attempting to cheer him up. “Let’s try it.” 

Jared uses his bread knife to cut off a slice, but the inside is doughy and dense: inedible. Richard puts a comforting hand in the middle of his back. “I just don’t think you’re gonna get the same results with almond flour that Mary Berry did with bread flour. It’s ok, though, we can, we’ll figure this out. Do you want me to make you some tea?” Jared shakes his head morosely, and Richard tries again. “Do you want to make _me_ some tea?”

With a heavy sigh of mingled dejection and relief, Jared nods and puts the kettle on. 

**Day 48**

“Jared?”

Jared bolts upright instantly, removing his sleep mask to see Richard standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Not at all, Richard, are you alright? Is everything ok?” Terrible images flash through Jared’s mind of the kind of news that wakes people up in the middle of the night but Richard holds out his hands, placating, and comes closer to the pull-out bed.

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine. I’m just.” He gusts out a breath and runs his fingers through his curls, agitated. “Can I...?” he motions to sit on the bed, and Jared scoots over so Richard can get in. A quick, guilty thrill runs through him at the shocking intimacy of sharing his bed with Richard for a late night chat - and he once more reminds himself that he is allowed to hold onto these private joys even in such a terrible situation as quarantine. 

Jared sits up, leaning against the back of the couch and Richard does the same, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with him. _He’s so warm_ , Jared thinks, then asks, “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just like. I can’t sleep, and I was reading Twitter again, and there’s so many fucking _idiots_ like, I just don’t see how this will ever end, you know? I thought...I thought I was gonna travel, see the world, and now it feels like that’ll never happen because these assholes are using AR-15s to protest like, the validity of science? And, and I know that’s fucking selfish, obviously, people are dying and. Fuck. I’m just. Scared. You know? I’m scared of _me_ getting it, I’m especially scared of _you_ getting it with all your health stuff, and...” he trails off, chewing on his thumbnail until Jared clears his throat gently and he remembers, stops.

“I understand, Richard. You’re feeling trapped. Stuck. Do you want to,” a lump seems to form in his throat and he struggles to get the words out, “do you want to try to find your own place to quarantine? Somewhere you can control all the factors better, I could put out a few calls--”

“No!” Richard replies, scandalized. “God, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all, Jared. I - I feel guilty, actually, because. I mean I know it’s bad out there, and in here it’s like. Like it feels like this could go on forever. And so many people are bitching about the people they’re quarantined with. Couples are fighting, people going back to their _parents_. And then, here I am, and um.” Richard turns to face him a little more, and Jared can only see half of his face, the other half obscured in shadow. He’s twisting those red, bitten lips, and Jared can hear him gulp, see his Adam’s apple bob. 

“Being here, with you, I thought it would be. I dunno, kinda lame? Heh. Not like, not _fun_ but. But it’s honestly been...really great.” He smiles shyly. Jared’s heart is thundering beneath his thin white t-shirt. “And uh. Like, this works, right? We, we _get_ each other, right?”

“Yes, I think so,” Jared says, hushed and still. Something is happening, some small, vibrant spark is sputtering to life.

“People are tweeting about their roommates or partners driving them crazy or, or needing to be drunk all the time or whatever, and I hate this idea that like, you’re supposed to hate the people you’re with just cause you’re stuck inside. Because I don’t hate you, I - I like you more than ever, actually.”

Richard’s staring at him now, and he’s so warm and alive, angling just a little bit closer, and Jared doesn’t know how this is happening but it is. He swallows, takes a breath.

“Richard, you know - you must know, I like you t--” but he doesn’t finish because Richard is kissing him, clumsy and sweet, and that spark kindles and burns and spreads like wildfire through them both. 

**Day 1**

Richard brings in his last suitcase and his laptop bag, setting them both down on the floor near the front door. So this is where he’ll be spending the next 14 days of quarantine. Jared hadn’t exactly _insisted_ but...still, it’s probably better to do this with someone else rather than alone. 

“This is going to be wonderful, Richard, I promise. I’ve stocked up on all the essentials, I have lots of games and puzzles, and I even made a visit to the craft store a few weeks ago to prepare for this very eventuality. Someone’s going to emerge from quarantine with some newly-loomed potholders!” Jared claps his hands in delight, and Richard smiles wanly. 

“Sounds...great.” _Oh well_ , he thinks. _At least it’s only for two weeks_. 

**Author's Note:**

> h/t to Ricardo Contreras at Vice doing the hard-hitting investigative journalism to uncover Tom Nook's predatory capitalist schemes. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @bitchardhendricks


End file.
